Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1887-11-27
ANOTHER MAN WANTED.
The Board of Trade Might Better Organ.
ize Committee on Sympathy.

This is miserable night-the ending
of miserable day. From early morn
the heavens were an impenetrable pail, a
damp chill and gloom filling all the
space between earth and sky. As night
settled down in dependency the mist
and rain, which had for hours splashed
i'll dreary monotony agains5 our window
panes, chilled into sleet and as midnight
draws near a white shroud. cold, freez-
ing sheet of sleet and snow, envelopes
the world. The winds, that sighed and
sobbed ali the day through, are shrek
ing among the naked branches, and over
the telegraph wires, comes moaning
around the corners and cornices with a
wall BETTING utter dispair.
We said that this was a miserable end
ing of a miserable week The week has
so proved for at least one. 1t seems as
if all the unfortunate of an entire city
had been poured into this particular
room, until head weary and heart worn
We are about ready to PROFOUND that
never satisfactorily answered question
sis life worth the living" A man S
heart may be but gizzard or piece of
sole leather, but the eternal tread of the
miserable, the plant of the wronged, the
woes of the unfortunate, will tell upon
its toughness in time. The solemn hour
of midnight draws on with its blackness
above and whiteness beneath, its increas-
ing cold and the deserted streets, there
comes back all the plants of the week
and we feel like exclaiming in the Ian
guage of the poet-well, we have for
gotten his name, and, in fact, what he
said. However, come to think of it, one
can cover his sentiments more fully by
making up his quotation as he goes
along, besides he can go longer:
When the racket of this mundane whirl shall have
done,
With its fever and strife, It's anxiety and dread!
And, when this measiey to the grave has been
run,
And you and have ceased 20 stand on our head!
VIII the torn sails of our tired souls catamaran
BE pressed full into the realms Of white peace;
Or win we all be done up" for good. to man.
Mid gathering umbratons and beyond surcease.
Beyond a chance to even desire or to visit
Left in dumbness, in darkness and in utter doom,
Less nothing-less than brief, defunct herring
fish,
Beyond anything-everything- an 'up-a-tree"
coon.
The sob of child, lost in a storm-ridden night.
The suicides Gurgc, as he sinks meath the wave.
The wall Of the victim, whose terror and fright
Is whiskys derium, and the yawning grave.
The high strangling galows-"Hock Del Anarchy"
The EX-Com. struggling with Dods pigs, alone,
For intense, intent and narrowing agony,
Might disintergrate the heart of the hardest stone
But for downright whitening harvest of death
That would shrivel the soul of the in the MOON
Commend US to the plaintive dire, amending breath
Flowing in, and on, and forever, in this room.
Now "A mother whose girl has gone to the-the bad
4 wife whose husband has wreckd her happiness
all,
Then father whose bright, proud syren-seduced
lad
Has stranded nice home on big bank of gall
And a thousand such wrecks, and nary single boon,
Mix up with pork, railroads. lots, and lust one
more boOm,'
Till the soul turns back itself, in Respondent
gloom,
Back, with the cry for some other man in this